To Sleep a Slumber Endless
by YamiJessi
Summary: He had pondered, since the beginning of the quest he had jumped quickly to embark on with his cousins, just what the places of Middle-earth were truly like.


A/N: This is possibly going to an ongoing story, have not decided if I should continue yet or not. Slight spoilers for FotR, very slight. Nothing of slash or such yet, unless you really want to see it, then you'll find it anyway. *Laughs* Don't know if that will change yet, it is highly likely though. 

Title: To Sleep a Slumber Endless  
Storyline: LotR  
Characters: Mostly Merry, and Legolas, but more or less everyone in FotR  
Paring: None established yet.  
Rating: PG13 thus far  
Series: Possibly ongoing  
Archive: Let me know first, but most places are fine. 

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned them. 

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It is a dark hour when one feels so alone that the shadows seem to reach with greedy talons for a soul left unguarded. Those wisps of ebon are always eager, always lusting to drain the joy from the eyes of any they can set hooked claws into. So often those shadows are born of one's own mind, and this is the worst sort of evil. Pushing aside the night is difficult when it does not lie behind one's eyes, but it becomes a task almost impossible when it breeds from the inside. It haunts and calls, whispering silvered words of false truths and laughing in deathly tones. Waiting, lurking, that pain hunts always. Just as it had sunk needled nails into many, it still holds firm grip in the soul of one. A single creature, a simple creature, forced to become vastly more complicated by fate. For in the world of change and constant leaps forward one cannot fall into the same paces every day. The wish was there however, buried so deep in eyes darkened by hardship. A silent plea, a silent scream to whatever Gods would listen to the voice of a simple creature. The hope as there, but not as brightly, for what Gods would put such effort into the voice of a being of such little importance as a Hobbit?  


He had pondered, since the beginning of the quest he had jumped quickly to embark on with his cousins, just what the places of Middle-earth were truly like. Once, when he was just a tiny Hobbit lad, Merirdoc Brandybuck had hidden himself and Pippin away in the study of his older cousin Frodo and spent many long hours looking over the maps and texts that belonged to Bilbo. His eyes had grown wide in pleasure as he had traced the words with his finger, reading them with eager anticipation. He had always had a deep love for books and the secrets they held, though this was often overlooked in light of all his mischief and silliness in the company of his younger cousin. Even as Pippin busied himself with making a fine mess of the inks that were sitting upon the desk, Merry became lost in the words. He saw worlds beyond the Shire and everything he knew, and somewhere deep in his heart he longed for such things. His joy was soon broken though, as Pippin managed to spill the inks all over the desk and left the older Hobbit to scramble, gathering the texts and rushing them out of the way of that ebon sea that dripped across the grain of the desk. He remembered, vaguely, being fascinated by that spreading mass, watching it consume the bright wood and leave behind a dirty film.  


Now, standing alone in the darkness, watching the rest of his companions lost to slumber, except the still form of Legolas as he stood watch nearby, his mind was drawn back to the ink. It had seemed a tiny thing then, but one that had lingered in memory, even more so than the sharp lecture they had received from Bilbo when they were found moments later. That ebon cloud, that empty void of black that had run quickly across his own hands reminded him very much of the last few days. Already, in the short time that they had traveled Merry had seen sights that made him long so much for the quiet of home. That ink, it was like the darkness he could feel spreading through the Fellowship, even as he watched. It nudged a small void in his soul and filled that space with doubt. Had it not been for the feeling that no matter how frightened he was, no matter how much he longed to whisk his cousins back to safety of their home once more, that his place was here Merry would have turned back long ago. There was something larger than the lot of them; of this the Hobbit was certain. Yet, there was so much to each of them, it seemed beyond his mind to grasp how large something must be to be more important than those he had come to know the last few days. And he had decided that the Middle-earth he had hoped to see and the place he was forced to trek were worlds apart.  


His eyes trailed to where the stilled outline of the golden haired Legolas could be made out against the flickering fire of the campsite, and for a moment his thoughts rested upon the Elf. Merry had decided that as simple as his own kin were, Elves were equal to that in complexity. They were also very good at not moving, Merry mused. He had single-handedly watched the Elf stand in the exact same spot for the entire time that the rest of the Fellowship had slept. He was starting to wonder if the slender form had slipped off to slumber without even realizing this. A few strands of hair caught at the side of his ear, ushered there by the soft breeze that had danced past as he turned his gaze more fully to the quite form at the edge of his sights. The Hobbit was surprised to see his own brown eyes met with those sharp beacons of green that seemed to give an even more fierce appearance to the warrior's visage of the Elven prince. There was a light about the Elf that Merry mused few really saw, being too busy looking upon the fair features of the creature and little else. It was always Legolas that left Merry a bit unnerved; because of all the Fellowship he seemed the one who was so calm in battle, so precise a hunter. It made the Hobbit wonder what lay behind those shimmering ethereal eyes.   


Merry lingered for a moment, simply watching, before standing and shaking off the weary ache that settled into his small form. He made his way to the Elf, assuming that any creature of sound mind would enjoy some company on such a dark night. Legolas offered a nod of greeting and little more as the Hobbit settled on the ground beside him, folding his small hands in his lap before glancing up at the silent form. He took a moment to look over the figure beside him, always being one to pay attention to details when possible. Legolas was the sort of being that one saw in a dream, unreal in both look and manner, and this did not go unnoted by many. It was the shifting mannerisms of the Prince that Merry found the most amusing. In one moment Legolas was the picture of dark determination, drawing the life from an Orc in battle. Yet, the next he was taunting Gimli with the lively, lofty silliness that seemed to be abundant within him. It seemed the Prince was very complicated indeed.   


Now Merry had not had much dealing with Elves, but he was certain from the ones he had known that few posses the streak of reckless boyishness that Legolas did. He was unsure of the age of Elf, but guessed him to be around the early stages of adulthood for his kind. Though he could recall Strider mentioning something to them once about Legolas being thousands of years old it had been hard for the dark-eyed hobbit to fathom such age. Now though, looking at eyes that were so brilliant and still so filled with hardship, Merry hardly doubted that Legolas had seen a hundred times more pain than the rest of them. What puzzled him though was how the Elf could turn such empty eyes to the world and hide away whatever trace of emotion he felt, if in fact he felt anything. This was just the question that Merry wished to ask Legolas, but he quickly found it a very difficult task when actually in the close vicinity of the quiet being. The wind took the moment to brush past once more and Merry frowned, regretting having left his cloak back with the others as they slept. The night breeze had a sharp bite to it in these dark lands. Legolas glanced to Merry as the Hobbit hugged his arms around himself, gathering warmth this way.  
  
Legolas knew full well that the Hobbit was ill suited for the chill in the night air, and knew even better that all of the Hobbits were very ill suited for this quest. The thought had troubled the Elf from the moment they had left Elrond's home far behind and began the long trek that so many were sure would end in death. Already his belief was confirmed by the discomfort Merry tried to hide, they all tried to hide, whenever the journey proved to be too much. But, Legolas thought, Hobbits were very simple creatures, so they did a poor job of hiding anything. Though this was almost an asset as well, it made most comfortable around them, it seemed their kind was devoid of any real darkness.  
"Perhaps you would be best back among the others, resting. It is not your watch, and there are few in this forest that could catch an Elf unaware."  
The words were meant of course to offer the Hobbit a means to slip back off to bed, and save them both the silence of broken conversation. However, Merry seemed rather opposed to the idea.  
"I am quite well enough as it is, and I've no real heart for sleeping. Better to be in the company of friends than to sit in the darkness alone." The Hobbit offered a mild smile, only to be greeted by the same even gaze Legolas had much of time, at least when he was not in the direct company of Strider or Gimli.  


It was left at this, Legolas turning back to watch the shadows, leaving Merry to his thoughts. Though it only took a few moments for another idea to climb into the mind of the Hobbit.  
"What do you see out there?" There was a hint of apprehension in the words, as though Merry was not certain if he wanted to know what lurked beyond what his own eyes could pick up.  
"Many things, trees, the few animals which wander this area, though little more. Do not be troubled young Merry, we are safe enough for now."  
Legolas failed to note the furrow of the brow that Merry offered to those words. In truth, he was not fond of being called young, or of being brushed off in conversation with such ease. However, there was little else he could think to bring up, at least with the hopes of still sounding wise enough to keep audience with the Elf. He dwelled for a moment, thoughts wandering away, off to other things.   


Merry knew it was not in the attempt to be cruel that Legolas did not entertain his questions, or even his presence, as much as he did most of the other members of the Fellowship. It was simply that he did not stand out among the others, and even he knew this much. Some stood out simply by what they were, the stout and gruff Gimli or the graceful, perceptive Legolas. Others because they simply commanded it with their being, their personalities so strong it was difficult to ignore. Strider was a leader of sorts, more so in Merry's eyes than the wise Gandalf. The Wizard was well-versed in the path they must take, but it seemed it was always the steady and understanding Aragorn that found the path for Gandalf, be it a forest road or a bustling town where they met with nothing but strange faces. Bormir was also easy to recollect, and not just because Merry had a fondness for the human and the quiet way he showed himself to be more honorable than most would believe. No, there was a strong desire in the man, be it for light or darkness, Borimir's soul was a powerful force that most could see shinning in his dark eyes. It was among his cousins that it was so easy to see the four as the same if one were to simply look at a glance. Frodo was of importance in this quest, for he carried with Ring, and with that came his standing of being foremost in many of the Fellowship's mind. And of course Sam, always by Frodo's side, was an easy sight to pick out, for he was a constant one that never wavered. Even Pippin, so youthful and eager with the hopeful mindset of firm resolve that everything would end up perfectly fine, was so easy to pick apart because he was so much of a joy. It all left Merry to wonder just how he fit into any of this.   


He was the one most often overlooked, because there was nothing extraordinary about him. He was simple; always present Merry, the shadow always following in Pippin's heels to make sure no harm came to the lad. He was the protector, though not in such an open way as Sam. No, he watched over his cousins carefully, but always seeming to the side. It was always Merry and Pippin when some mischief had come to light, but never simply Merry when the Hobbit had brought up some important observance of his own. It was difficult, feeling so much like you could fall off the face of Middle-earth and none would note it, except perhaps Pippin. He had faith in that much, because if nothing else he had the loyalty of his younger cousin to shine as a beacon for him during these dark days. But it all led Merry to wonder just why he was here, it seemed his part in the quest was empty.   


He must have lingered in his thoughts for longer than he had paid attention to, because he was startled back into the real world by the sound of the form beside him shifting around. He knew that some time had passed, because the temperature had dropped to a worse chill, much to his dismay. With a sigh, he took a moment to look into the darkness all around. His eyes were not as keen as Legolas', but he was smart enough to know how to listen to the sounds all about. Another sharp wind brushed by and this time he almost winced at the cold. Legolas frowned and shifted around for a moment, then with a quick motion of his hand dropped the cloak he had wrapped across his own shoulders upon the smaller form of the Hobbit. Blinking at the sudden weight, and moving to pull the folds of fabric away from his face, Merry glanced to the Elf.  
"I do not feel the chill as you do, the night air shall not bother me. Simply return it to my resting place when you return to the warmth of your own bed tonight." The words were simple and to the point, so Merry could only nod his thanks as Legolas added with a slight smirking smile. "And I would never hear the end of it from Aragorn if I were to let one of you freeze sitting watching me stare into the night."  
The Elf gave a mild chuckle and kept his steady gaze on the shadows, glancing about from time to time. Merry did not care for the thought of freezing, and it did seem unlikely given that it was not that cold, but the fact that there was humor in the Elf's voice made him smile.   


He returned to looking into the night himself, the darkness seemed as though it were a void all around him. This thought led a single question to fall from his lips, without giving much consideration to the words until after he had spoken them.  
"I wonder how long it will be before we all see home again."  
The statement stirred the Elf, who turned to look to Merry, the expression on his face actually sorrowed for a moment.  
"I fear not all of us will. It is the same ill feeling that has stayed with me this entire journey."  
"You really think some of us will die out here?"  
Merry was almost afraid to voice the words. Yet, he was not as firm in resolve as Aragorn, nor was he as eager in hope as Pippin, he skirted more the lines of realistic. His mind carried the same doubt as that expressed by the Elf. Legolas gave only a slight nod, worry playing over his features. It was the first time Merry had seen open emotion that intense on the face of the usually reserved Elf, besides the sly smiles he often sported when up to his sort of mischief in tormenting the Dwarf or sharing old tales with the Ranger. It was comforting; to see such a strong emotion in one he had found so void of many emotions until this eve. The Hobbit had to wonder if anyone else bothered to take the time to catch the emotion Legolas showed in those rare moments, aside from Argaorn. He was certain that the two shared a deep friendship, like himself and Pippin, but he had to admit that the lofty Elf did not seem to have many ties to anyone else on such a personal nature. Perhaps Gandalf, but Merry could not be certain and he had little desire to ask.   


With all that was weighed on his mind, coupled with the warmth that was beginning to spread through his body from the cloak, Merry had to work to keep a yawn at bay. His eyes felt heavy and he knew he would soon be lost to dreams. Legolas simply nodded, seeing the tired light in the eyes of the Hobbit, bidding him off to rest while he finished out the rest of his watch before waking Borimir to take the next. Merry muttered something of a good night to the Elf as he stood, turning to make his way back to the others.   
"I know it may not seem it now, and I know well that we may not look like much in the way of a group, but I think we may just win this battle if by nothing else than the desire we all have to see home again." It was voiced softly, though Merry knew the Elf's keen ears would pick up the words.   


He had dropped Legolas' cloak among the Elf's things before heading over to his cousins when he heard the reply to his words.  
"I think you may be right, and I pray you are." Legolas never glanced towards him, but as he uttered the words Merry was certain the Elf had smiled.   
Then, there was little more for the Hobbit to think about that night as he settled into his place among his cousins, resting to the side of Pippin, on the far left of their little group while Sam slept on the far right, close to Frodo. It was a sleepy mist that filled Merry's brain as he shut his eyes to the world and dreamed of brighter days spent playing tricks on the cousins and long walks in the glittering Shire sunlight he longed to see once more.  
  
(c) J. Gaines, 2003


End file.
